


Fever Dreams

by DearLazerBunny



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Near Death, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 22:51:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17130209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearLazerBunny/pseuds/DearLazerBunny
Summary: A loooooong time ago one of my favorite followers asked for a sick reader/Poe story, and this has been sitting on my computer unfinished for too long and I’m sick of looking at it so here it is!





	Fever Dreams

Coming home was always a huge sigh of relief,  even from a routine run such as this. As you extended your landing gear, you couldn’t help the little flare of warmth that expanded in your chest. Home. Rest, probably; Leia was good at not running your team too hard too many times in a row. You remove your helmet and run a hand over your sweaty forehead as your X-Wing shudders to a stop on the tarmac. Another successful mission. You had to smile a bit. Your squadron of newbies and try-hards was coming along quite nicely, and from the looks of the gathering crowd below you, everyone else was seeing it too.

Cheers erupted as your cockpit opened and mechanics ran over to help you out and run checks over your ship. Medics were standing by, but you waved them off. This had been a clean run, the only problems you’d had were a few members overheating a bit from the humid jungle climate and some sunburned scalps. Nothing a good dose of water and aloe couldn’t solve.

“Hey there!” Lost in thought, you hadn’t noticed your boyfriend sneaking up behind you, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a hug. “Congrats, Miss team leader. Another run under your belt!”

“Poe, stop it!” You giggle despite yourself as he kisses you on the cheek. “It was a friggin drop off on a resistance-controlled planet. Hardly a daring mission.”

“Still. Proud of you, babe.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him, lightly booping his nose with yours, before pulling away and tugging at the sleeves of your orange jumpsuit. “I’ve gotta get out of this thing, I’m burning up.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “Is that an invitation?”

“Oh for god’s sake, we are in public, Poe!” You glance over at General Leia, who was talking to some of your other recruits on the side. Proudly, based on the look on her face. “Besides, it depends on what Leia has in mind. We might be going back out-”

“Oh no you’re not.” Poe grins in that way that makes your heart drop. “I’ve already talked to her, both our squadrons are cleared for leave for the weekend.”

“In that case-” you make sure no one is looking too closely before whispering into his ear- “that is absolutely an invitation.”

…

Moonlight is streaming through the window when you wake in the middle of the night, bedsheets and a still naked Poe wrapped around you like beautiful poems. You have to push the covers away though, because for some reason you’re still insanely warm. You look around for your pajamas and slip them on without waking your softly snoring bedpartner, making your way to the bathroom. Splash some water on your face. Feel your forehead. Definitely hot. And a little nauseous? Weird. You were up to date on all your birth control, so god knows it wasn’t that. All of a sudden, you feel woozy, and you sit on the edge of the small shower, palm to your forehead. Everything aches. How hand you not noticed this before? Maybe that landing was harder than you thought.

You sit there,  just trying to breathe, when an overwhelming sense of anxiety pours through you. Something was wrong. You could just feel it. Your heart was beating way too fast, there was sweat pouring off of you, and the pit in your stomach seems to deepen every second you sit there. As you open your mouth to call for Poe, all you manage to choke out is a handful of blood, splattered across your hand in bright red fury. You stare at it, feeling it drip through your fingers.

“P-Poe? Poe!” You cough some more, feeling the nastiness rise up in your throat.

When he finally gets to the bathroom door, he finds you curled up on the bathroom floor, shirt stained red and trembling against the cold tile.

“Oh my god, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Is that blood? We need to get you to medical, come on, up you go-” you try to stand but collapse under your own weight, knees hitting the floor hard. You clutch his hands for strength as you land, desperately trying to hold on to something as the world spirals from underneath you.

“Something’s wrong,” you whisper wide-eyed, swimming in red. Then you close your eyes, and you don’t see anything anymore.

…

The next time Poe sees you after dragging your lifeless body out to the hallway, screaming for help, you’re hooked up to too many machines to count in medical. Pale as death, with clammy hands and a fever that won’t seem to break. He grabs your hand from underneath the tightly wrapped blankets and squeezes, promising in his head to never let go. How had things gone this wrong this fast?

“Dameron?” The doctor comes in, stone faced, and Poe can’t help but wince. There’s still some smears of your blood on his otherwise pristine white jacket.

“Doc. What happened? One minute she’s fine, and the next-”

“She has an incredible amount of internal swelling, including in her brain and spinal cord. We’re giving her steroids for the inflammation and a broad-spectrum antibiotic, but there’s no guarantee it’ll catch whatever is making her react like this.”

“I don’t understand.”

The doctor flips open your chart on his clipboard. “Has she travelled in the past thirty days?”

“Travelled? She’s a pilot, of course she’s travelled-”

“A fever of this severity, marked by the thinning of the blood and the swelling, seems to be consistent with a virus contracted on a jungle-based planet. Does that ring any bells?”

Poe pales. “Y-yes. She just got back this afternoon.”

“There’s your answer then.” Poe looks at him, shocked, and he softens his demeanor when he sees the terrified look in his eyes. “Look, it manifested early, and it doesn’t seem to be contagious. Those are good signs that point towards a recovery. We’re working to get the swelling down as quickly as possible. Otherwise-”

“Otherwise  _what_.”

The doctor looks at you, noting the vital signs beeping on a machine at your bedside. “She’ll most likely be brain dead within 24 hours,” he sighs.

“No- no, that’s not possible! You have to help her, you have to-!”

“Dameron, get a hold of yourself!” The doctor places one hand on his shoulder. “We’re doing everything we can. Only time will tell now.”

Time seemed to be something you were quickly running out of.

…

Poe was making promises to god when you surfaced from a hazy dream.  _I promise I won’t be as reckless. I promise I’ll tell her I love her more. I promise-_

“Poe?” your voice is thin and raspy, like you haven’t had a drink of water in days.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m right here.” He moves closer to your bedside and squeezes your hand. “How are you feeling?”

Your eyebrows scrunch up. “Bad. Weird. I’m burning up.”

“You have a pretty high fever. The doctor is trying to break it.”

“Am I gonna die?”

Poe grimaces. “No, sweetheart. ‘Cause if you die I will personally revive you just to kill your ass again for leaving me.”

A small smile works its way across your face. “That’s… that’s good.”

“So don’t worry. Everything is going to work out just fine.”

You cough low in your chest, and Poe is quick to wipe your mouth with a tissue so the flecks of blood you spit up don’t freak you out any more than necessary. “Then why does everything hurt so bad?”

Poe sighs, gripping your hand even tighter. “It looks like you picked up something from the planet you visited. Nothing major, they’re keeping a good eye on you.”

“Nothing major?” You’re dizzy and not thinking straight, sure, but you can comprehend enough to know that all these IVs and machines and beeping things aren’t a good sign. “Poe, just give it to me straight.”

He stalls. “I don’t want to scare you.” Those few words make your heart drop, but you look him dead in the eye and stay there until he sighs. “They told me internal swelling of the brain and spinal cord.”

“Oh.” You’re quiet for a moment, not sure how to process that. “That’s bad, right?”

“We have about-” he glances up at the clock- “sixteen more hours to see just how bad.”

“Sixteen hours.” For some reason, that round number is a comfort. “I just have to make it through the next sixteen hours.”

Poe smiles a little at that, such a determined stance spoken at such a sickly whisper. “That’s right, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

You eye him frantically as you begin to feel yourself slipping away. “Don’t leave me.”

“Not in a million years.”

…

Those next sixteen hours are some of the worst of your life. You float in and out of consciousness, plagued by strange dreams and hallucinations. You sweat out fluids as fast as they can pump them in you. Despite your 103 temperature, you shiver so hard your teeth clang together like bells, and you have more blankets draped over you than the entire base has on their beds.

But the whole time, Poe is there to hold your hand, and murmur comforting words no matter if you’re awake to hear them or not. He refuses to leave your side to eat or sleep. You’re all that matters, and he wants to be the first one there when your fever breaks.

Which it does, eventually and slowly. Ticking down by degrees over hours, but you eventually stop shivering. Your hand becomes less clammy as he interlocks your fingers together even tighter. You’re able to open your eyes, and even smile at him, which feels like the sun coming out after a hurricane.

“Hey.”

“Hey there.” Poe sits forward in his chair, brushing a piece of hair off of your forehead. “How do you feel.”

“Like I can breathe again.” Frowning, you paw at the layers piled on top of you. “Can you move these?”

“Gladly.” He returns to his seat once they’re piled on the floor at the foot of the bed.

You lay back onto the pillows, exhausted from that small amount of effort, and sigh. “I guess I’m gonna be okay, huh?”

Poe smiles. “You sure as hell are. Sorry, can’t get away from me that easily.”

“It was so hard,” you whisper. “It would have been so easy to just slip away. I could feel it…”

That sobers him, and he brings your hand up to his lips to kiss. “But you didn’t. You’re here, that’s all that matters.”

You smile. “With you.”

He smiles back. “Always.”


End file.
